


she's a monster at times

by janebirkin (orphan_account)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, POV Petyr Baelish, R plus L equals J
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 10:08:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11011266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/janebirkin
Summary: Littlefinger watches Jon and Sansa in the crypts.





	she's a monster at times

* * *

They were about to finally leave for the Wall. The bastard King, the Onion Knight, Arya and Bran Stark and Daenerys Targaryen, his most recent enemy accompanied by her whole army of savages, dragons and Westerosi Houses. At last, Sansa was going to be left with him alone. And after his very patient waiting, after Catelyn and Brandon and then honorable Eddard, he was going to get what was rightfully his.

 

Daenerys was going to be the first to fall. He had been certain the second he had set his eyes on her. She was too proud, too naïve, over-confident and bloody lucky. She was just that, lucky to be where she was. The common people of King’s Landing wouldn’t buy into her overrated image for long.

 

But, of late, it wasn’t this thought what kept him up at night. It was the bastard. First, King in the North and now newly proclaimed Targaryen prince and heir. The Dragon Queen had even conducted a test to prove this true. If he wasn’t the most powerful man in Westeros yet, he was most certainly going to become him after her death.

 

This meant a latent and sure threat. If he was to be crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms, he would need a bride. Even if he refused it and only kept his reign over the North. He would need to make an alliance with a powerful House, with not only political strength but historical, with a side of lands and men ready to fight if need be. And Jon Snow was as sentimental as Ned Stark or even more. Not even a blind person could miss how he cared for his family. Especially his red-haired sister, now cousin, who possessed not only every characteristic a King needed to secure his rule, but she had his heart. He loved her so much he had gone to war for her and would probably do it again. Littlefinger loathed him.

 

But the Northern King was far too stupidly Stark to marry the girl he had grew up with and had considered half-sister for a considerable part of his life. Lord Baelish could at least count on that.

 

However, his future Queen grew more reckless every day. Her and the bastard went to the Godswood every morning and had endless private meetings to discuss the welfare of the castle and the North in general. He was and sure they were confidants and he hated to say they made a good team. The whole fucking region loved them. She had made it almost routine, spending long hours with the boy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The whole counsel was having a meeting. Representatives of the wildings, the Unsullied, the Northern army and the Knights of the Vale, himself, were there. And of course, Sansa, Daenerys, those Dornish women, the Greyjoys and Jon Snow. Jon Snow, who was giving one of his countless speeches about the menace over the Wall. He wasn’t listening though, because he couldn’t take his eyes off of Sansa. Her eyes were shining while she looked at her bastard cousin. Every other part of her body was as still as always but she wasn’t as good as him. She couldn’t control everything she felt.

 

His blood was boiling. Jon Snow didn’t deserve it because he had been served everything he had. He had achieved everything from scratch and with so much effort. He was close, so close, to make that image in his head an undeniable reality. No bastard, Targaryen or not, was going to take that from him.

 

He didn’t notice the room was standing until Sansa was no longer in sight. He rushed out and found himself in the cold of winter. He saw that unmistakable strand of fire-like hair out of the corner of his eye.

 

They were going to the crypts.

 

He silently followed them. His mind raced back to the day he had kissed Sansa there, after stating the North would be hers. He still believed that.

 

He hid among the shadows upon seeing them. They were standing arm in arm in front of the statue of Lyanna Stark. She whispered something to him, but he responded out loud.

 

‘’I was never a Stark.’’

 

‘’Don’t you say that,’’ she said, sounding almost hurt, ‘’Your mother was a Stark. Your uncle was too. You are as much of a Stark as me, or Arya or Bran.’’

 

He shook his head and Sansa moved to stand in front of him. Jon Snow looked to the ground.

 

‘’Look at me, Jon’’, she demanded with a sweet tone. She was every bit a queen as always, but no longer filled with that cold manner she regarded everyone with. Almost everyone.

 

Her fingers caressed his chin and the King did as ordered. She had never touched _him_ like that.

 

‘’You have Stark blood in you. That makes you a Stark whether you believe it or not. Who cares what papers say and what others think. You are a Stark to me. I have already told you that.’’

 

‘’I don’t feel lik—…’’

 

She quickly took his right hand and removed his black glove. The place seemed more silent than before, the air, thicker. Sansa slowly guided the bastard’s hand to her soft face. He stroked her skin and Littlefinger heard his intake of breath.

 

‘’Being a Stark feels like this,’’ she shrugged, smiling. She took her own glove from one of her hands and felt Jon’s face like he had done. ‘’You feel the same.’’

 

A feeling as if he was trespassing washed over him. He was invading a moment not meant for him and his head was spinning. His ears stopped functioning as they were supposed to and he only saw their lips moving. He couldn’t understand what they were saying but Jon Snow went still. And then Sansa closed her lips on his.

 

They were kissing. Right in front of his face. Their bodies were intertwining and he couldn’t tell which hand was whose.

 

His hearing suddenly decided to come back and he heard his beautiful Sansa moan, but not for him.

 

They were starting to remove their clothes and he couldn’t bear it anymore. He ran out of the crypts, not caring who saw him as disturbed as he surely looked.

 

He reached his room and his body finally collapsed. His mind was running though: history was repeating itself and he was helpless again.  

 

 

 

 

> _Title from ''In the Quieter Aftermath'' by Mary Jo Bang._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've had that image of the gloves thing in my head for weeks now and after the trailer for S7, I decided to mix it up with a bit of Jon/Sansa/Littlefinger conflict. Hope you enjoyed!


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